


through the night

by incendir



Series: talk me down [4]
Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incendir/pseuds/incendir
Summary: Tonight, I'll send the glow of a firefly to your window. I hope it’s a good dream.





	through the night

**Author's Note:**

> Clarifying first to prevent confusion, the frame of this (first NJTTW3 trip) would be sometime before the last section of the third YHAL chapter, as in that section Mino is packing for the second trip.

When Seungyoon gets the call, it’s just before midnight, and Minho hangs up at around half-past—once Seungyoon has walked him through, not only the passcode that the rapper swears he had memorized, but how to actually open the suitcase successfully after the numbers had been entered in. Minho ends the call after thanking Seungyoon—still giving the vocalist a generous amount of time to finish laughing rightfully at Minho.

Seungyoon takes the phone from his ear and holds it in both of his hands, resting it against his lap. He stares, twirling it around, fingers skirting on the edges. After Seungyoon had heard Minho exclaim in happy relief under his breath at the suitcase finally opening, the vocalist had himself asked teasingly to be let off now so he could sleep, joking about wondering if Minho will be able to survive the next five days without Seungyoon on speed dial.

He doesn’t know why his stomach dropped when he heard nothing but warmth and sincerity in Minho’s voice stating that he isn’t sure how he’ll survive either—then bidding Seungyoon a good night, and sweet dreams, before clicking off.

Seungyoon, fully expecting Minho to retort as they always do in denial that he needs Seungyoon’s help at all and that this was a one-off, was too stunned to do anything but listen as Minho ended the call. Minho had paused briefly after wishing Seungyoon good night, but Seungyoon’s voice was stuck in his throat and Seungyoon knows that it would be absurd for Seungyoon to call back just for that. Minho is filming anyway.

He looks at his phone a moment longer, before he leans forward against the desk in his small studio, arms outstretched on the table. He places his phone down and opens to the messages he and Minho exchange outside of the chat they all are in with their staff and managers.

The last message had been sent by Minho, telling Seungyoon that he was boarding. Seungyoon had been at the dermatologist then for the usual treatments they get every few weeks, and since he’d only read it once Minho had most likely landed, he’d only replied to the general message Minho had sent to the group messages about arriving safely.

Things have been strange between them, but somehow, when Seungyoon scrolls back through their messages through everything—while there have been lapses, going from days of constant back and forth to times when there were weeks between message timestamps—the strangeness doesn’t show in how they communicate here. As if they could still be normal, as if they are pretending that nothing is different—in a way it’s a reprieve.

He brushes his thumb over the text box.

 _I don’t know what your morning mission will be, but you’ll lose anyway so just sleep in,_ he types. _Good night. I—_

 

* * *

 

With the meetings and preparation for his possible solo debut ongoing during the day, the only time Seungyoon has to practice for team checks is at night. It isn’t so bad as Jinwoo is more often than not there until late near the early morning anyhow, but some nights when Jinwoo isn’t there, Seungyoon finds himself dancing and singing alone in the practice room.

He doesn’t get lonely exactly, but it’s easier to remain awake when there’s someone with him, and he and Jinwoo can keep each other in check since choreography has never come naturally to either of them—they both need the extra effort to look uniform. Tonight, though, is better than other nights when Seungyoon is alone. He’ll need to be checked over again tomorrow, he thinks, but to his own eye in the practice room’s mirror, he looks good enough to call it earlier than usual.

As he packs, his mind drifts off to what kind of usual delivery supper will be waiting for him back at the dorm that he’s sure one of his teammates have left out for him. He’s hungrier than he is tired so he’s shoved everything back into his backpack without waiting for any of the sweat dripping all over him to dry off in the air-conditioning. Seungyoon is nearly to the door when it opens from the other side, and their new rapper walks in.

Minho has his own backpack slung over one shoulder, hand holding the strap in place. His other hand holds a plastic bag clearly labelled with the logo of the cheapest fried chicken chain closest to their dorm. Seungyoon blinks as Minho’s eyes, mildly confused, take in the sight of Seungyoon clearly prepared to leave for the night.

“Seunghoon-hyung thought your form was bad, too?” Seungyoon asks sympathetically, stepping aside to let Minho through. The rapper must be gearing in for a long night if he even brought food for himself.

Minho doesn’t make any moves to walk past Seungyoon, however, simply shaking his head lightly and holding up the bag. “Uh—no, my form’s all right—I think, at least. I—um—there was another box that we ordered for you when you got home, but it was getting late so, I just, thought I’d bring it.”

Seungyoon blinks again. “Oh—thanks, but—”

“You’re about to leave now, though, right?” Minho glances at Seungyoon’s backpack. “I’ll just—”

“I can just eat it here,” Seungyoon says, stepping back and dropping his bag down on one of the benches against the wall. “It’s dumb if you brought it all the way here and you have to bring it back. I’m starving anyway.” He takes the plastic bag from Minho and walks to the corner of the practice room closest to the trashcan so the clean-up will be shorter. Minho has also placed his bag on a bench, and is hovering awkwardly, which Seungyoon would expect considering the rapper probably expected to be able to leave the food while Seungyoon was still practicing before going home himself.

“You can head back,” Seungyoon offers, mildly amused. “I don’t care about eating alone—you don’t have to eat again.”

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Minho smiles almost unsurely. “I thought maybe you’d want someone to eat with.”

Seungyoon stares, most probably, for a moment too long. The silence stretches out enough that Minho’s smile turns even more uncertain, and the rapper’s tone is clearly playful in an attempt to draw over the imposition when he says, “But if you want all the chicken to yourself—”

“No—what, have some—sit down.” Seungyoon grabs Minho’s wrist and tugs, gesturing for him to take the space on the opposite side of the box of food. “You really should’ve just eaten with the others,” Seungyoon says, as he pulls out the container of radish and the cans of beer. His hands slow momentarily when he should have simply peered into the bag first to see how there are exactly two cans of beer, rather than have Minho awkwardly explain.

“Wasn’t hungry when the food came anyway,” Minho pops open his beer first, as Seungyoon beelines for the drumstick.

The vocalist surveys Minho skeptically. “Sure,” Seungyoon says, around a mouthful of chicken. “Trying to win points as the newbie?” he teases, carefully, and injecting as much warmth into his tone as possible so that he can gauge what kind of humor Minho is and isn’t comfortable with.

Minho’s eyes search Seungyoon’s gaze for a split second before there’s a flash of perfect, white teeth. The grin tugs at one corner of Minho’s lips, but the amusement spreads across his entire face. “Did it work?”

Seungyoon jerks his head towards his own unopened beer can. “If you open that for me, absolutely.”

The rapper swallows down the current bite of chicken in his mouth, and he tosses the bone he’d finished just then into the empty bag. He looks directly into Seungyoon’s eyes, just as playful and daring as he makes a show of licking the grease off of all the fingers of his right hand before using those same fingers to open Seungyoon’s can.

“You’re,” Seungyoon says calmly, even as Minho sets the can in front of him, “disgusting.”

Minho blinks, and Seungyoon reaches out and grabs Minho’s can—cleaner by far since Minho had only drank from it before he began eating—and takes a long swig from it. He hears the rapper burst into indignant laughter. “Oh my God, you’re the worst,” Minho’s voice is warm and bright.

Seungyoon pokes the can that had been previously his towards Minho. “You started it.”

Minho’s broad grin settles into a small smile that Seungyoon finds himself continuously sneaking glances at even as they finish the box between themselves. Minho never makes a grab to take back his can, even when Seungyoon offers to trade back again lightly.

“Thanks, by the way,” Seungyoon says, a little too aware of how abrupt the gratitude sounds right while they’re finishing cleaning up. He slings his backpack onto his shoulder, after handing Minho the last of the napkins they used to mop up any grease that had gotten on the floor.

Minho stuffs the trash into the wastebin, making sure the box had gone in all the way as well. He already has his backpack on, and he opens the door leading out from the practice room first, pulling it all the way and standing aside rather than stepping through. “No problem,” he says, that small smile reappearing just in the curve of Minho’s eyes this time. “It was fun.”

 

* * *

 

Typed out, those three words—eight letters—look even worse to Seungyoon. They look terrifying and out of place—something he shouldn’t say, and definitely not something he should send. It doesn’t look right, and his hands freeze as soon as he realizes he had typed it out at all. In that single moment, he imagines what would happen if his fingers had slipped at any moment and sent what he had just typed out without meaning to.

He backspaces hurriedly, feeling his hands shake—feeling his arms and body shake. He swallows dryly, closing his eyes and smiling humorlessly to himself.

When he opens his eyes and looks down once more at the words he has already written, the cursor in the text box seems almost resigned. It isn’t fear, Seungyoon tells himself, he isn’t afraid—he’s pragmatic. There is a time and place for everything, and Minho is away filming his first trip for a show that anyone in their position would give an arm and a leg to be part of. Seungyoon would be a horrible friend, and an even worse teammate, if he did anything to distract Minho from that.

He ignores the way his chest clenches, ignores the way his hands still shake, as he smoothly writes in something better—something appropriate. Something that won't ruin what they are to each other.

_Good night. I’ll see you when you get back._


End file.
